


while the skies are burning

by tobedecided



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 04:47:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobedecided/pseuds/tobedecided
Summary: Nebula looked at him, her dark eyes searching for an answer. “What does your team fight for?”“Humanity,” he said simply. “But I suppose it’s bigger than that now.”





	while the skies are burning

**Author's Note:**

> [updated 7/24/18: added one or two sentences to help with flow]  
> [updated 11/25/18: added a few lines to the ending -- I always thought it ended abruptly]

He wept.

He couldn’t contain it any longer. The emotional pain was on par with the sharp, pulsing wound on his side. He was living his deepest, most personal fear. Those nights he spent waking in terror of this possibility couldn’t amount to half of the agony he felt now.

_“Is he your ward?”_

_“Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go. Sir, please...please I don’t wanna go...I’m sorry.”_

He covered his face with shaking hands. But for what? There was no reason to hide his shame, his grief.

He was alone.

An unfamiliar voice suddenly shouted at him.

Tony looked up to see the strange blue alien that had fought with them standing in front of him, unwavering anger ingrained into her expression. Apparently he wasn’t the only one spared.

“Are you deaf? I said get up, Terran.”

“Why?” Tony spat. “Don’t you see? We lost! It’s over! He won! We couldn’t stop him. We failed.”

_You didn’t do enough._

“Stop!” the alien snapped at him. “Thanos said you knew knowledge, yet here you sit ignoring the significance of the Wizard’s decision. There must be a reason he gave up the stone for your life.”

Tony blinked.

_“If I have to pick between your life, the kid’s life, or the Time Stone, I won’t hesitate to choose the Stone. The Universe is at stake.”_

“It was the only way,” Tony whispered Stephen’s last words to him, moments before he disappeared into dust.

“What did you say?” the blue alien questioned him.

“We need to get off this planet,” Tony announced. Before they faced the enviable, he had to know who survived and who perished. Ignorance wouldn't make their situation any less painful.

“To where, exactly?”

“Earth.”

The alien didn’t object. “I have a pod. That is if it wasn’t destroyed when the moon hit the planet."

“Show me.” Tony shifted his body to stand up, but his legs gave out in protest.

The alien approached him. “Are you injured?”

Tony looked down to his side. It was bleeding again. He quickly sprayed more nanites on the gash, praying it was enough to hold the wound this time. He felt the alien’s large eyes watching him as he finished the patch.

“He stabbed me,” Tony explained. The fact that Thanos had used his suit’s own sword against him left a vile taste in his mouth.

_“I hope they remember you.”_

He shook his head, trying to forget the feeling of the the maniac’s hands cradling his neck, slowly placing his body down as he bled out.

“You are lucky that was all he did,” the alien said with little sympathy. “He showed you mercy. I’ve never had that luxury.”

“That lapse in judgement will be his biggest downfall,” Tony remarked.

The alien looked down on him, her expression had softened somewhat. Out of pity? Or was it solidarity? Tony decided upon the latter. After all, they both needed each other to get off this goddamn planet.

“Can you stand now?” she asked after a moment.

He could, and did.

The alien led him a distance away from the site of their battle. Tony observed the planet’s terrain. They were surrounded by nothing but destruction. The planet’s inhabitants were long since deceased. Thanos quite literally pictured himself as a phoenix in this scenario, rising from the ashes of his plant. Tony couldn't wait to cut off his wings.

His mind trailed off, wondering what was left of his own planet. Or more appropriately, _who_ was left.

A chill rolled down his back causing him to shake instinctively. He reached for his jacket zipper and closed it just above the reactor.

He kept his eyes forward, focusing only on the dull pain in his side.

 

///

 

Eventually they reached their destination.

Tony frowned. “Is that your pod?”

The entire left portion of the pod had been sliced in half, leaving only remains of the pilot’s seat.

The alien screamed before kicking the pod in anger. It left a sizable dent in the exterior.

“Hey! Wait! Stop for a second,” Tony shouted. “Quill’s ship. They landed near what’s left of the space donut. We can check there.”

Retracing their steps to Quill’s ship made their journey to the blue alien’s pod seem like a cakewalk in comparison. His body screamed in protest with every step he took alongside his alien companion. But they had to keep going. No one else was going to save them.

As they approached the remains of the space donut, they could make out the wings of Quill’s ship. Upon closer inspection, they saw that one of the left wings was completely detached from the vessel.

“It’s no use!” the alien screamed. “We’ll end up rotting here. Just like he wanted.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Tony leaned against the ship partially to get a better look inside, but also because he was finding it awfully difficult to remain vertical. “Luckily for you, I’m a mechanic.”

Tony began immediately working on assessing the damage for the repairs. In addition to the disconnected wing, they found the front engine had also taken a sizable impact from the battle.

One thing at a time, Tony reminded himself.

He pulled at what looked to be like a tool box from a shelf. This angered his side tremendously.

“What do I call you?” Tony asked after he got his breathing under control. Maybe it was from the lack of oxygen, but for a brief moment, those words transported him back to a dark, cold Afghani cave. Oh yes, parallels could be made to their current situation. But, as this was neither the time nor place, he made the conscious decision to focus on the alien's voice in attempt to stave off another panic attack.

“Nebula, estranged daughter of Thanos. Sister of Gamora,” she said, with emphasis on the latter.

He pointed to himself. “Tony Stark. Also known as Iron Man back on Earth. I’m part of a team called the Avengers.”

Nebula looked at him, her dark eyes searching for an answer. “What does your team fight for?”

“Humanity,” he said simply. “But I suppose it’s bigger than that now.”

With that, Tony got to work. It was sheer luck that a lot of the basic mechanics looked fairly equivalent to what was on Earth. It helped that Nebula found an Ikea-like instruction manual for the engine and computer system. Tony figured that in a universe with so many dialects, having basic picture-book instructions made sense.

He didn’t know what half the shit he was looking at actually did, but he wasn’t going to share that with the alien. Tony could tell she already thought he was weak. He didn’t want to give her any reason to further that belief.

Tony moved the toolbox and manual over to the nearest workstation and began flipping through it’s pages. In the margins, he read what he presumed to be Quill’s handwriting describing some key points of the operating system.

“You know what this is?” Tony held up a folded page of the manual. On the page was an outline of a specific engine part. If he was right, they could use this to replace one of the faulty attachments.

Nebula nodded slowly, trying to recall the part’s location. “I’ve seen something like it before near the cabinet on your left.”

Tony shifted to look over his shoulder. He put the manual down and stood up to explore.

Suddenly, his vision began to blur. Tony quickly gripped on a console to steady himself, but his efforts were futile. He attempted to walk back to the workstation chair but his legs felt like weights beneath him, dragging him down. He couldn’t breathe; his lungs desperate for oxygen.

He struggled to keep his eyes open but that required a strength he didn’t have.

_Don’t waste it...don’t waste your life, Stark._

When he woke, he could feel the cold, rough meal of the ship’s floor on his back. Yet, something soft supported his head. He opened his eyes to see Nebula above him, studying his face.

“You fell,” she provided.

Tony blinked. “I stood up too fast.” He reached down to his side before holding his hand up to inspect. No blood. At least the nanites were still functioning normally.

“Don’t do it again,” Nebula warned. “You have a job to finish.”

“Has anyone ever complimented your bedside manner?” Tony asked, voice dripping in sarcasm.

A puzzled look appeared on her face. “No.”

“Didn’t think so,” Tony responded through clenched teeth as the effort required to sit up put an unnecessary pressure on his side.

Nebula crossed her arms defensively. “I don’t often make it a priority to converse with strangers.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“Usually I’m there to kill them,” Nebula replied flatly.

Tony pursed his lips. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

Nebula stood up and retrieved a small box, carrying it back over to where he was now sitting semi-vertically.

“I found some energy bricks while you were out. I don’t think they’re toxic for your kind.”

Tony raised a brow. “Energy bricks?” he repeated.

“They have another name but this is what they are called,” Nebula said without elaborating. She handed a couple of packages to Tony.

Tony decided the energy bricks were appropriately named.

They were quite literally bricks — an odd mixture of red and brown formed into a brick-shaped form. He sniffed it, but it had no distinct smell.

“I swear to god, if I die from eating something called an energy brick after being stabbed by a genocidal alien…” Tony bit the bullet — or, rather the brick — and took a corner out of the foreign snack. He found that the brick softened significantly in his mouth as it came in contact with his saliva. The resulting texture was quite unappealing.

Nebula sat next to him, watching closely as if to check for any negative reactions from the energy brick. He began to think she didn’t _really_ know if it was toxic for humans, or Terrans as she seemed to call him.

“I take it you haven’t come in contact with many humans out here. In space.”

“Your kind doesn’t fare well out here. Quill, however...he was an annoying exception.”

Quill. Star Lord.

They had been close, _so damn close_ to winning before Quill engaged Thanos, overwhelmed by the grief of losing Gamora.

Tony cursed at himself. He should’ve known better. Should’ve seen what was inevitable for he had felt that same rage and anguish years ago in Siberia. It, too, had cost him a war.

“How did you get dragged into all of this?” Tony asked, going for the big questions now.

Nebula’s gaze trailed towards the wall behind him, her large, black eyes distant. “Thanos abducted me from my planet at a young age. Our people were sick, dying. He said he would be our _savior_ ,” she spat in disgust. “He destroyed half the population. Men, women, children...my own family...gone. He took me from the survivors. For what reason, I don’t know. A trophy? A future weapon to mold? I much rather would have preferred to rot from starvation than to have lived the life he gave me.”

Tony remained silent, unsure how or if he wanted to proceed. “And Gamora?,” he eventually asked. “You said she was your sister.”

“He raised us to fight each other as part of our training. The loser would be tortured, held down as he picked what parts to replace with his machines.” Nebula gestured to her body. “As you can see, I was very rarely a winner.”

“I’m sorry.”

Nebula raised her dark eyes to look directly at him. Her expression was unreadable. “What?”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Tony repeated.

“Why?” Nebula tilted her head in confusion. “There’s...no reason for you to be _sorry_. You didn’t cause that to happen to me.”

Tony frowned, trying to find the correct words. It appeared she was unfamiliar with sympathy. That fact was not surprising given the information she had just shared with him.

“It’s just...it’s an expression we have on Earth. It can have different meanings, not just as an apology. It’s also used to comfort someone,” Tony explained, hoping he got his point across.

Nebula considered this. “The child said it many times,” she said without malice.

_“And if you die, I feel like that’s on me.”_

Tony felt like he had just been stabbed, again, only this time the pain came a few inches higher.

“Alright. Great talk. Time to get back to work,” Tony said weakly.

 

* * *

 

Nebula reached under the broken wing to weld the last part to the vessel with her weapon. The static charge of the electrified blade easily manipulated the ship’s metal. It was a temporary fix at best. The blade wasn’t meant to repair ships, but they had to make due with what they had.

She returned the blade to her holster before walking back into the ship. The Terran was still working at the main pilot’s console.

Somehow this mere mortal was her key to avenging Gamora’s death.

She prepared herself for disappointment.

Past all the anger and fury, Nebula couldn’t help but feel a sense of selfish comfort knowing that her sister traded an Infinity Stone for her safety. The consequences were well understood by both parties, yet she allowed herself this solace.

Nebula had already tried and failed to place blame on Gamora for her weakness on their father’s ship, for leading him to the Soul Stone and ultimately her own death. But she wasn’t naive. Thanos would’ve gotten what he wanted in the end, with out without her sister’s disclosure. He would’ve found another way to get what he wanted. He always did.

“Hey,” Stark called her over. “How’s the wing holding up?”

“I completed the welding. It’s attached to the _Milano_ now.” she reported.

“ _Milano?_ He named his ship after a cookie?” Stark asked in disbelief. “How am I not — you know what? Never mind.” He waved it off. “I need you to go back outside and watch the engine. I’m going to try something with the computer and I need to know how the motors react.”

Nebula exited the ship and went to the front as instructed. Through the windows, she could see the Terran get out of the pilot’s seat and shuffle over to a side console. She was no expert on Terran biology but the human’s condition was concerning — for the mission. His movements were slower and clearly pained him more than they did when they first arrived at the ship.

It was shocking to her how this human was able to battle Thanos for as long as he did. Perhaps she should reconsider the weakness of his race. Then again, the only other comparison she had for him was Quill.

As instructed, she lifted the front panel with little effort and observed the unmoving engine. She heard a knock on the window and looked up to see Stark.

“I’m going to power it up!” He appeared to have yelled out but it sound muffled on the outside of the ship.

Nebula nodded.

After a few moments, she could hear parts of the ship begin to turn on. Seconds later, the engine began to shake before it ultimately ignited.

She looked back up to congratulate the human on his work but he was no longer in view of the window.

Nebula closed the hatch to the engine and returned to the inside of the ship only to find Stark lying flat on the floor next to the computer console, unmoving. Just like before.

Quickly she approached, ensuring not to step in what looked to be fresh bile and blood. He had vomited what little supplements they had eaten earlier.

She knelt down next to him. His breathing had become labored and his skin had lost what little color he had before.

He opened his eyes, weakly, as though the simple act drained a significant amount of his fleeing energy. He must have sensed her next to him.

“Are we there yet?” Stark whispered, managing a half-smile.

“We haven’t left yet. You just fixed the engine.”

He laughed for a moment, before following with a small coughing fit. “Was...making a joke,” he clarified after stabilizing his breathing.

“I would think death is a misplaced time for humor.”

“I’m still kicking, aren’t I?” His grin was larger this time; taunting mortality as if his existence was defying the universe, or at least what was left of it. Perhaps it was. Either way, she admired his resilience.

“Not for much longer if we don’t get to Earth.”

Nebula stood up and began arranging a cot on the flight deck out of spare cushions and blankets she found thrown around the floor.

She walked back over to the Terran and found him passed out again. It was worrisome, but made her job of carrying him to the cot much easier. His shoulders trembled in her arms.

Next, she went to the lower deck in search for first aid, or at least some sort of medicine to ensure Stark lasted their journey to Earth.

She ripped open a locked cabinet with ease to reveal three shelves stacked full of potions and liquor.

One bottle caught her eye: it had previously stored alcohol but the brand label had been covered with a piece of masking tape. Drawn on it was a red cross at the top.

Nebula held the bottle in her hand and turned it over to reveal Quill’s name written above two stick figures with a right arrow between them. The left figure had it’s eyes crossed out and frowned. The right figure depicted a smiling face with arms raised, alluding to good health, she assumed.

It would have to do.

Upon returning to the main deck, she saw Stark hadn’t shifted from his position in the makeshift cot.

She walked over to him and noticed a thin layer of sweat covered his body.

Nebula placed her non-metal hand gently on his shoulder, an action she realized was highly contrary to her usual demeanor.

There was no reason to be cruel right now, she thought. Not after they had lost so much.

She heard him muttering something about a wormhole and wondered absently if that was a part of his plan to destroy Thanos. There _had_ to be a reason the Wizard traded his life for half the universe.

“Stark,” she called his name. “You need to drink this.”

His brown eyes shot open, dread and panic ingrained in his face.

_"I’m sorry,_ ” he wept. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“This is Quill’s human medicine. It’s safe for you to take,” Nebula explained.

Stark didn’t, or couldn’t hear her.

She was becoming impatient. “We don’t have time for this!” Nebula uncorked the bottle and stood up. Swiftly, she lifted the medicine to Stark’s mouth, urging him to drink. But it was no use. His illness began to encompass him. Any traces of the confident mechanic who managed to repair Quill's ship were gone, replaced now by some borderline-hysteric.

Nebula cursed.

“Do you want to die?” she asked, ultimately.

Stark looked past her through fevered eyes. She wondered what horrors he saw. By his non-answer, she presumed it was the one they were currently living.

She frowned upon realizing she had no other choice but to force him to drink the medicine.

Carefully, she sat him up vertically against the wall. He allowed this without protest, unaware of what she would do next.

Nebula moved quickly. With one hand tipping the the bottle back, her other reached behind Stark and covered his nose, causing him to open his mouth instinctively. She held his head back just enough for him to drink the medicine without choking in the process.

His eyes immediately shot open in panic. His arms reached out frantically for her own but it didn’t take much to hold him down in his fevered state.

Once he drank a sufficient amount, Nebula released her hold and took away the bottle.

Stark pushed her away weakly, coughing violently with tears welled in his eyes.

She replaced the cork on what remained of the bottle in case the need arose for more and placed it on a nearby console.

Nebula turned around one last time to check on Stark, who was muttering incoherently about people she didn’t know and places she hadn’t heard of.

She placed a blanket over him before returning to the front of the _Milano_. She maneuvered her way into Quill’s chair and began initiating their takeoff.

Throughout the entirety of her childhood, Thanos would attempt to regale her with inverted tales of good versus evil, of the strong and the weak. As a result, she grew older believing these lies were absolute truths. For a time, she often thought  _she_ was the weak one.

But in the end, he was wrong. He always had been.

Knowing the real winners and losers, Nebula concluded, depended on where you stopped the story.

Their story didn’t live and die on Titan.

It wasn’t over yet; this was just the beginning.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for bringing him home.”

Nebula looked up to see a much larger Terran standing in the entryway. He was dressed in a dark, muted blue battlesuit. She could make out a large star on his chest. She wondered what that symbol stood for.

As he approached her, she could see flecks of dried blood in his beard.

“What is your name, human?” she prompted.

“Steve Rogers.”

Nebula blinked. “He spoke of you on our journey.”

A pained expression formed over the human’s face. “He did?”

“He was delirious. I wouldn’t think too much of it.”

For some reason, this didn’t appear to make the man — Rogers — feel better.

“Tony and I...we have a history.”

“You two are lovers? He mentioned a wedding.”

The human’s face reacted in a way she hadn’t yet seen in their species. Clearly she was mistaken.

“Maybe in some other universe,” Rogers said eventually. His tired eyes shifted, perhaps anticipating that she wouldn't settle for such a plain explanation. “We fought side by side in many battles as Avengers. Then later, at each other. It didn’t end well. For either of us, as I’ve come to realize. We haven’t seen each other since.”

“My sister and I were once enemies,” Nebula began. “I was blinded by years of my own pain and suffering that I failed to see our goals were always the same.”

They sat alone for some time, both silent, considering the events that led them to where they were and what still needed to be done.

Nebula decided she liked this Terran the most out of the others. He used his words sparingly.

She looked at this stranger and recognized the face of a soldier, a leader. “What now?”

Rogers lifted his head from where he cradled it in his blood-stained hands. “Now? We assemble.” 

Nebula considered Rogers' answer. Despite not knowing this man before her, she couldn't help but feel a hidden significance in his reply. Finding allies in a post-Thanos world would be hard to come by. Perhaps it would be best to align herself with Terrans like Rogers and Stark. 

Briefly, her mind thought of Gamora. How she forged a family of her own in order to save the Galaxy not once, but twice. They were all morons, but she wasn't blind to the comfort their camaraderie brought her sister.

In that moment, Nebula decided that she would avenge her sister's death, even if that meant having to join Rogers' team. Only then would she allow herself a chance at that same happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Two of my faves stuck on a planet together? Fanfic was MADE for shit like this.
> 
> I seriously had so much fun writing this after years of not posting fic!
> 
> Also: I paraphrased that early line of Strange's. I've seen the movie twice, but can't remember it exactly. I'm pretty sure he said something similar. If anyone knows what it was please let me know in the comments so I can edit it!


End file.
